


Clipped Wings

by Meepy



Category: Show By Rock!! - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, maybe kind of romance but more friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meepy/pseuds/Meepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet he wanted to see her fly too close to the sun like Icarus and descend into his darkness once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clipped Wings

When she walked into the studio, she was surprised to see a certain member of ShinganCrimsonZ already there, alone. He was strumming some chords on his guitar.

This was the first time she ever saw him there without the rest of his band. Then again, she never came to the studio by herself often, usually opting to stay in her bedroom whenever she did solo practise. But sometimes she needed the atmosphere of the professional room.

“Hi, Aion,” she greeted and he stopped.

He looked at her as though he was contemplating whether or not to respond. Eventually, he brought his hand to his face and answered, “Rabbit.”

“It’s Chuchu,” she corrected with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

And it sounded silly, because he had his guitar and what else could he be doing?

She could see his eyes from between his fingers, fiery. “My melodies within, they scream so passionately to be released and consume the population with their willful darkness. Every chord and note is an intense cry demanding to be penned. The compositions thus far have not yet penetrated enough souls.”

She stared. He was saying he wrote songs for ShinganCrimsonZ, wasn’t he?

“Your songs are impressive,” she complimented after deducing the meaning of his words.

“Any less would be shameful for a god such as myself.”

She forced herself not to sigh audibly. He always was a bit of an oddball, much like his bandmates. “Are you writing a new song?”

“These sounds have tormented me for much too long,” he replied.

She sympathized. She was also here for that reason. “Do you mind if I join you? Practising, I mean.”

“So long as you can handle the presence of a black monster, rabbit.” Saying that, Aion returned his attention to his guitar. Chuchu grabbed her own instrument and adjusted the strings as her company played various notes and chords.

Pick in hand, she naturally strummed along with his melodies until he abruptly stopped.

He watched her.

“Sorry,” she spoke reflexively, fingers settling.

Slowly, Aion covered his features with his hand before muttering, “Those fervorous chords sang to my melodies.”

“Oh.” She paused for a brief moment before gliding her pick across the guitar strings once more. “I thought this chord progression sounded good with it. Actually, it was something I pulled from a song I was trying to write.”

Chuchu shot him a quick glance before continuing her performance. Wrapping up the tune, she stated, “That’s one of my works-in-progress.”

It was quiet.

“Tempo,” he said eventually. “Dynamics. More _forte_ and _allegro_ would strike hearts deeply.”

“Wha—of course!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. A quicker pace for the instrumentals really would sound better. “And for your song, I was thinking these frets might sound good—”

That night, Chuchu learned about Aion’s talent and intense love for music.

* * *

She bumped into him in the hallway.

He glanced at her figure briefly.

“Good morning, Aion. How was your night?”

“The darkness of the night spoke to my darkness within.”

She blinked. “Of course.”

There was a pause.

“Shingan is practising in the studio this morning, right?” Once she received an affirmatory nod from the taller man, she continued, “We’ll be practising this afternoon. So the studio should be free in the evening again.”

He simply nodded again.

Chuchu took a step back, shifting her weight. “Well, I’ll be there playing. We could exchange notes again if you wanted to practise too.”

“Ah, I should probably get going.” She smiled, her gaze focusing on something in the distance.

“Think about coming tonight, okay?” she offered before walking away.

For a moment, he considered it.

* * *

"That’s one more,” Chuchu breathed, staring at the sheet music in front of her. She set down her guitar and scribbled down the last few notes, completing the tab. Her progress with these new songs was extraordinary, and it was pretty clear that the man sitting across from her contributed greatly to her success.

Half of the times when she stopped by the studio during an unbooked session, he’d already be there or arrive shortly after. Their thoughts and commentary proved to be beneficial for the both of them, and she was getting better at deciphering his words.

As she organized her papers, Aion continued his riffs.

“Hey,” she spoke up suddenly. “Can I hear you sing?”

He messed up his fingering.

“Well, you write songs but I’ve never heard you sing before,” she elaborated. “And I’m sure you can, since singing and composing tie together.”

Though she supposed it was something he did outside of her company, most likely with the rest of his band since they apparently used Crow’s lyrics.

Aion hesitated, hiding his face behind his palm as usual.

“I could help more if I heard the focus of the song and not just the instrumentals,” she added thoughtfully.

“Then listen carefully and grovel to this impassioned resonance, rabbit,” he spoke eventually. Then he sang a few notes, his voice uncharacteristically mild and relaxing. She watched him intently and when he stopped, a short laugh escaped her lips.

He scowled in response. “One should not mock a god.”

“No, not that. I didn’t mean it like that. I just realized why Crow is your vocalist.” She shook her head as she spoke. “Aion, you have a really good voice. But it’s probably too soft for the songs you write.”

“His soulful lyrics are more suited to his own presentation,” Aion admitted quietly.

“Maybe you’d be better suited for Plasmagica songs, then,” she teased. “Listen, we have similar voice types.”

From memory, she sang a few bars of a ShinganCrimsonZ song, her tone evidently too delicate and sweet for the melody—angelic, even.

“See? Doesn’t work. But Plasmagica songs work for me, so I bet they’d work for you too.” She laughed again at the thought.

The mildly offended look he wore further amused her; he wouldn’t even glance in her direction. “Your light songs clash with my darkness.”

“That’s too bad,” Chuchu hummed. “I think doing a collaboration between our bands could be fun. Or interesting, at least.”

She noticed his focus turn to her. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “Perhaps. Such an endeavor would bring more followers to a god.”

She picked up her guitar again and reiterated with a smile, “Maybe one day, then.”

* * *

“So I was thinking of changing the bridge, placing more emphasis on the build-up and—Aion.” She stopped herself and gestured towards the hand shadowing his features. “Sorry, sometimes it feels difficult to talk to you when you cover your face like that.”

He visibly flinched at her comment and she immediately backpedaled. “But, I mean, if you’re not comfortable with it then that’s fine.”

“Do not question the machinations of a dark god,” he interjected.

“I just want to see your eyes when I speak with you,” she finished, her own eyes turning down towards the guitar in her lap.

She didn’t see him bury his face further into his hands.

* * *

When Aion walked into the studio, he saw Chuchu sitting by herself, eyes downcast. Her guitar was leaning against the wall. She immediately looked up once he entered, seemingly relieved by his appearance.

“What nightmares have been haunting you?” he questioned, taking in her distressed expression.

“Um, well. Well, I was talking with Cyan, Retoree and Moa.” Her normally confident voice shook. “I want to have a solo career. It got brought up somehow and we had an argument.”

She clenched her fists in her lap. “I can understand why they’re upset. We’re a band, and I love them and I _do_ want to succeed with them, but this is something I’ve always wanted. From the very beginning, before Plasmagica. And if I pursue it, I’ll be leaving Rocking Band Records.”

“Understandable desire,” he commented. “As a ruler of the night, my own darkness cannot be contained. Rather, it envelops the world.”

For a moment, an image of her standing alone on stage flashed in his mind and the realization that there would no longer be anymore of their impromptu practise sessions struck him. No more morning greetings, considerate glances or quiet exchanges.

“Should you betray the principles of your gods and clip your wings, you will continue as a fallen angel,” he concluded, voice low. “But bloody wings do not suit you.”

Her eyes widened immediately and she reached her hand towards him, but stopped herself before making any contact. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Simple dialogue expends little effort.”

“Maybe,” she concurred. “Still, I’m just glad hearing that. When you’re in a band and you’re surrounded by bands, it feels like the only thing you can do is _be_ in a band. But sometimes I feel like that’s not what I want, and that what I want is wrong.”

Her gaze softened. “So I was really happy just hearing from someone that maybe it could be right. Thank you, Aion.”

She faced him, a genuine smile on her lips. For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Then he looked at her from between his fingers, really _looked_ at her, and saw a blinding brightness that was never there before. The words tumbled out of his mouth naturally, “Spread your wings and soar, angel.”

Pink dusted her cheeks and she stood up, brushing down her skirt.

“Thank you,” she repeated, “for everything. You really helped me with my songs and, if I do go for it, I think I'll actually succeed.”

The edges of his lips quirked up.

“Anyway, I should go now.” Chuchu turned in the direction of the doorway. “I just wanted to talk to someone—you—before speaking with the rest of Plasmagica again.”

He watched her retreating figure, silent.

Feathers drifted behind her.

It was fine.

Angels were meant to be admired from afar, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I do like these two as a pair, not that I can see them actually working out romantically. This was more an indulgent thing I wrote, which'd be better if it was fleshed out more properly but oh well. (Also I completely forgot about the food songs when I was writing it.)  
> The summary was a scrapped line but it sounded cool and resounded with my inner darkness so I decided to use it.
> 
> Cross-posted from tumblr.


End file.
